


Date Night

by Moonfreckle (Sunfreckle)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A bit of Grantaire Downness TM at the beginning, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Softcore Porn, To be swiftly cuddled away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 20:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Moonfreckle
Summary: Enjolras lets go of Grantaire’s hand and carefully places his hands on either side of Grantaire’s face. His thumbs stroke past the edge of Grantaire’s cheeks, his fingers reaching towards the back of his neck and for a moment Grantaire is just wrapped in his quiet attention. Then Enjolras leans towards him and presses a kiss on his lips. Grantaire’s eyes close and for a single second there is nothing but blessed silence in his head.[In which Grantaire has had a very tiring day and Enjolras does his very best to make the evening a great deal better.]





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adorablecrab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorablecrab/gifts).



> Written in an attempt to fluster Deb, with help from B. (language consultant extraordinaire) and Amanda (thorough and patient proofreader) <3

Grantaire swears under his breath as he runs up the stairs to Enjolras’ apartment. He’s late. It’s been a bitch of a day and now he’s late for the date Enjolras planned for the two of them. Instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell he uses his key.

“Enj? I’m here!”

He closes the door behind him to keep the cold out and looks up when Enjolras’ voice answers from the living room. His boyfriend comes walking into the hallway, with a smile on his face that falters as soon as Grantaire looks at him.

“Everything okay?” Enjolras asks.

"Fine,” Grantaire says and his voice comes out way too curt. “Sorry I’m late,” he adds hastily.

Enjolras shakes his head dismissively.

“You ready to go?” Grantaire asks, pushing at the tired annoyance at the back of his mind.

Now Enjolras looks a little uncertain. “R, if you’re-”

“I’m fine,” Grantaire repeats. “I promise.” And he gives Enjolras a tired grin. At least that feels genuine. “Come on, I don’t want to make us even later than we are.” He turns away towards the door, but Enjolras doesn’t move to get his coat on.

“Are you sure you-”

“Let’s just go,” Grantaire begs. If Enjolras makes him talk now, he’ll lose his fight with the stressed exhaustion pressing on his shoulders. He can push through it if he just—

“Grantaire.”

Grantaire stops with his hand on the doorknob. His shoulders sag and he turns around. Enjolras is looking at him with a slight frown on his face. He looks genuinely concerned now. Fuck. Grantaire sighs and leans back against the door in resignation.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grimacing slightly. “It’s just been…a day, you know.”

Enjolras’ eyes don’t leave his. “Did something happen?”

Grantaire shakes his head, looking away because he knows Enjolras won’t. “No, just- Stupid stuff, piling up. People. Traffic. Art.”

“What about your art?” Enjolras asks earnestly.

“Well, you’d think it was my art, wouldn’t you,” Grantaire grunts resentfully. “Doesn’t fucking feel like it, with the amount of opinions other people seem to have on it.” He grimaces again. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin our night out. I’m- I’m just tired, that’s all.”

The intensity on Enjolras’ face softens a little, but all his attention is still fully fixed on him and Grantaire wonders at what point in their relationship he built up enough immunity against this to not have trouble breathing right now.

“You’re allowed to be fed up you know,” Enjolras says, closing the distance between them and taking Grantaire’s hand.

“No use bringing the evening down for both of us,” Grantaire smiles faintly, squeezing Enjolras’ hand.

Enjolras frowns again, but there’s less of concern and more of fond disagreement in his face this time. He lets go of Grantaire’s hand and carefully places his hands on either side of Grantaire’s face. His thumbs stroke past the edge of Grantaire’s cheeks, his fingers reaching towards the back of his neck and for a moment Grantaire is just wrapped in his quiet attention. Then Enjolras leans towards him and presses a kiss on his lips.

Grantaire’s eyes close and for a single second there is nothing but blessed silence in his head.

Enjolras pulls back a little, leaning his forehead against his. “We don’t have to go out,” he says gently.

Grantaire wishes he could just turn those dragging feelings off. They already ruined his day, now it’s going to ruin his evening. _Their_ evening. “But I want to,” he says, knowing that’s not strictly true. But that really doesn’t count, because right now he doesn’t want anything. Except to be near Enjolras. If he could turn off the world for a bit and let there just be Enjolras, he would.

Enjolras’ hands are resting on his shoulders now, forehead still nudged against his and the temptation to just ask to stay home is very great. After a moment’s silence Enjolras tilts his head sideways and kisses him again. He moves very slowly, as if he’s giving Grantaire time to move away so instead Grantaire leans back heavier against the door and loops his arms around Enjolras’ waist. The unhurried way Enjolras’ lips move against his is drowning out his thoughts again. Grantaire doesn’t want to move, mostly because Enjolras doesn’t usually initiate like this and the last thing Grantaire wants is to make Enjolras think he doesn’t like it. But also because he just doesn’t want to move. Ever again.

Enjolras’ lips part just a little and Grantaire follows. Enjolras tastes of chocolate and orange, which is a combination Grantaire never really liked until he got used to tasting it in kisses. One of Enjolras’ hands is still on his shoulder, the other is resting against his neck, his thumb just under the curve of Grantaire’s jaw. With the same slow movement as before Enjolras pulls back a little, just enough to let his lips leave Grantaire’s.

“Is this helping?” he murmurs.

Grantaire exhales a nearly laughing breath. “Um, yeah,” he smiles, opening his eyes when he feels Enjolras pull back a little further still. “But we’re already late…”

Enjolras hums and slides his hand into Grantaire’s hair, as far up as the wall he’s leaning against will allow him. Grantaire’s eyes nearly close on their own accord when Enjolras fingers tangle into his curls.

“It’s just a movie,” Enjolras mutters, tugging gently on his hair. “We can go see it some other time.”

“Yes, but-” Enjolras’ fingers scratch deliberately down the back of his neck and Grantaire’s reluctant protests die on his lips.

Enjolras leans in for another kiss and his movements are not so cautious now. He digs his fingers in the back of Grantaire’s neck, directing his head to the side with his other hand so he can deepen the kiss. Grantaire kisses back eagerly and puts his hands on Enjolras’ hips right at the moment that Enjolras presses them up against him. He lets out a muffled sigh and he can feel Enjolras grinning into the kiss. Instead of pulling away, he kisses him harder and Grantaire pulls him closer, fingers hooking into the back pockets of Enjolras’ jeans. Enjolras presses closer, kissing him like he wants to kiss all the memories of the day out of Grantaire’s head and damn if he isn’t close to succeeding.

They break apart with a gasp and Grantaire opens his eyes to look at Enjolras, still panting. “What-?”

He just sees a flash of Enjolras’ smile before his head moves down and he buries his face in Grantaire’s neck, trying to kiss him despite his hoodie being in the way.

“Nothing,” he murmurs.

“Mmm,” Grantaire sighs. “Oh, you’re dangerous.”

The sound of Enjolras laughing softly against his skin sends shivers down his back and he’s about to push away from the wall when Enjolras’ hands slide down and begin unzipping his coat and hoodie. He pulls them both off his shoulders at once, letting his mouth travel further down Grantaire’s neck as soon as he has access to it. Grantaire lets go of Enjolras so he can shrug off the bulky clothes and while his arms are behind his back Enjolras opens his mouth against the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Grantaire groans at the very first feeling of teeth on his skin and Enjolras bites down a little harder, making him squeeze his eyes shut. The strain of stress and frustration in his body has given way to a tension that comes with more heat and far fewer thoughts. The only thing Grantaire is thinking about now is Enjolras’ mouth on him and how he wishes he could _see_ him kiss him. He’s been hard since that third kiss and with the way Enjolras is pressing up against him he can definitely feel that. His hands are playing with the hem of Grantaire’s shirt and when his right hand slides a little lower Grantaire temporarily loses his self-control. His fingers are grabbing into Enjolras’ hair before he realizes it and he drags him into an eager, messy kiss. Enjolras hums amusedly, grabs Grantaire by the front of his shirt and pulls him away from the wall. Grantaire stumbles forward, nearly tripping over his coat.

“Careful,” Enjolras laughs breathily and Grantaire grins. Enjolras’ hair is _nearly_ mussed up and his lips plumped from the kissing, he looks like something forbidden and Grantaire feels _weak_. He tries to kiss him again, but Enjolras lets go of him and kicks his shoes off with a sudden haste that makes something frantic coil in Grantaire’s stomach. He gets rid of his own sneakers and looks up in time to see Enjolras disappear into the bedroom. Grantaire follows and he has barely set one foot through the door before he’s being pushed down on the bed and Enjolras is on top of him.

“Oh god I love you,” Grantaire grunts and he pulls him into a kiss with a hand at the back of his head.

Enjolras hums gleefully into Grantaire’s mouth and there are dark lights dancing in his eyes when he pulls away to look at him. “This better than a movie?” he teases, sliding his hands under Grantaire’s shirt.

“Mm, depends,” Grantaire says, nearly managing to sound thoughtful. “What were we going to see?”

There’s a flash of amused indignation on Enjolras’ face and he gives a sharp tug on Grantaire’s shirt, pulling it half over his head so his arms get stuck in it.

“I take it back,” Grantaire splutters laughingly, struggling against the fabric. “I take it back.”

“I don’t believe you,” Enjolras purrs, his voice suddenly further away. Grantaire sits up to pull the shirt off, but as soon as he has he feels a firm hand on his chest and Enjolras pushes him flat on his back again. Grantaire laughs, but the sound gets swallowed together with the moans he tries to bite back as soon as Enjolras palms him through his jeans.

“I wouldn’t believe me either,” he pants. “The rubbish that comes out of my mouth-”

Enjolras makes a nondescript noise and suddenly his lips are ghosting past the inner curve of Grantaire’s hip, just above his waistband and Grantaire arches his back involuntarily. Enjolras grins against his stomach and kisses even lower. Grantaire swallows and can’t help but tilt his hips upwards, chasing Enjolras’ touch.

“Really,” he groans. “I should learn to shut up.”

“I had rather you didn’t,” Enjolras says hotly, sitting up so quickly he takes Grantaire by surprise again. He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside, sliding his hand back between Grantaire’s legs as soon as he has his arms free again. He’s using his other arm to brace himself against the bed and his eyes are fixed on Grantaire’s face as he works open his jeans. His expression is almost curious and Grantaire writhes underneath him. Enjolras’ hand slides into his boxers and Grantaire groans, throwing his head back on the mattress and letting his eyes fall shut.

Enjolras strokes him until Grantaire lets out a stuttering sigh and he retracts his hand in favour of planting his hands on either side of Grantaire’s head and grinding against him.

“Fuck, Enj-” Grantaire pants and he slides a hand into his boyfriend’s curls to try and drag him towards him.

Enjolras doesn’t comply, instead settling down heavier between Grantaire’s legs, but keeping his arms braced. The friction between his legs is just not enough and Grantaire pushes back, grabbing at Enjolras’ back with his other hand. Enjolras rolls his hips and Grantaire digs his fingers in, making Enjolras’ moans mingle with his own when he feels Grantaire’s nails drag down his shoulder. Enjolras gives in and lets his arms give out, pressing a frantic kiss on Grantaire’s mouth before fastening his lips on his neck again. He kisses down past his right collarbone and Grantaire swallows a moan. He tries to reach down between them to undo Enjolras’ trousers, but Enjolras pushes his hand aside. He presses another kiss against Grantaire’s chest, even lowers still. Grantaire sighs and shudders when Enjolras’ hand moves between his legs again. He hardly touches him, but he drags down his boxers just enough so that Grantaire now feels the soft skin of Enjolras’ stomach brushing against him instead of the worn cotton. Enjolras slides even further down and the friction makes Grantaire _ache_.

“Am I being punished or rewarded?” he gulps.

Enjolras hums amusedly against his skin. “Spoiled?” he suggests.

Grantaire can’t answer that because Enjolras is using his tongue now and he is forgetting how speech actually works. The only thing that still registers through the dazed want for more wrapping around him is that Enjolras is moving rather carefully again, as if he’s taking the time to consider whether what he is doing is okay. Grantaire wants to reassure him, but Enjolras fingers are dragging his boxers further down and Grantaire can feel how hot and wet his breath is. Grantaire’s fingers have curled into fists around the covers of the bed. He’s going to go to pieces. He knows he will.

♥

The involuntary noises that spill from Grantaire’s lips are making Enjolras lightheaded. What’s more, feeling Grantaire writhe and shudder under his touch is _incredibly_ distracting. But luckily it’s distracting in a way that shuts down his usual thought processes. Instead some old instinct buried deep inside his body makes Enjolras dig his fingers into Grantaire’s thighs and open his mouth to taste him.

Grantaire makes a frantic noise and moves very suddenly, pushing himself up on his elbows. Enjolras hesitates, maybe he’s going too fast. He leans slightly to the side, sitting comfortably between Grantaire’s legs, and nuzzles against the curve of his hip. Grantaire makes no attempt to stop him, only letting out a strained, adoring sound, so Enjolras opens his mouth again, letting his tongue slide over his skin.

“ _Look_ at you…” Grantaire’s voice sounds choked and breathless and Enjolras _has_ to see the expression that goes with it.

He glances up at Grantaire from behind the stray curls in front of his face and for a single moment he looks straight into his boyfriend’s eyes. They are darkened with want and almost pleading. Enjolras smiles, or maybe he’s actually grinning, and he dips his head down again, closing his eyes and letting his tongue lick slowly up Grantaire’s length.

Grantaire swears weakly and his head tips back helplessly. Enjolras grips him, squeezing slightly and to his gratification Grantaire lets himself fall back onto the mattress. Enjolras tongue laps just above his fingers and he’s rewarded with the sound of barely held back whimpers. The tones of weakly whispered Portuguese are still clinging to Enjolras’ skin and he wants more. But Grantaire lets out a choked sound when Enjolras takes him into his mouth and Enjolras pulls back.

“Não!” Grantaire begs. “Don’t stop-” Enjolras is already lowering his head again, letting his mind fill with the revelation of how _desperate_ Grantaire sounds, but suddenly Grantaire’s fingers are tangled into his hair and Enjolras can’t help arching his back in response. He moves up again, rolling his tongue, and Grantaire keens.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes. “Your _mouth_ …” Those are the last words Enjolras truly understands, the rest is lost in incoherency as well as translation as his English begins to slip again.

Enjolras can feel Grantaire trembling, nearly squirming underneath him and he presses down more firmly on Grantaire’s thighs. He has done this before, but he’s never gotten Grantaire this incoherent. He’s never been able to do what Grantaire does to _him_. It’s never felt like this, with every sound and movement Grantaire makes sending shudders twisting through Enjolras’ body. He wants more of this. All of this. He wants to punish Grantaire for being so hard on himself, reward him for everything he is, spoil him because he loves him so goddamn much. Enjolras opens his mouth wide and draws a deep breath before closing his lips firmly around Gantaire again.

Grantaire groans, a high, whining note sticking somewhere at the back of his throat.

Enjolras hums, as much to express adoration of Grantaire as his own pleasure and keeps going. He sucks harder, his hand moving up and down in an opposite rhythm to his mouth and he can hear his own breathing starting to blur together with Grantaire’s. And Grantaire’s breathing is ragged and shallow and wonderfully weak. Enjolras lets out a muffled noise of appreciation and _oh_. There’s a sudden shiver running through Grantaire and the fingers that are twisted in Enjolras’ curls twitch deliciously. Enjolras tries again, moving a little faster and making soft little sounds at the back of his throat. He can feel actual trembling under the hand he has spread out flat on Grantaire’s stomach.

“ _Ah_ -” Grantaire is suddenly moving, clumsily pushing himself up off the mattress with the hand that is not grabbing frantically into Enjolras’ hair. Enjolras’ eyes dart up to see Grantaire staring at him with a look that _burns_ on Enjolras’ skin. For just a moment, his rhythm falters.

“ _Vai_ , Ange—” Grantaire gulps and swallows hard. “Go on—” he pants. “ _Please_.” His hips move upward involuntarily, but Enjolras presses down hard with the hand spread against his lower stomach, forcing him back down. A strange, possessive sound escapes Enjolras throat and he pulls back far enough to flick his tongue over Grantaire’s head.

Grantaire’s breath hitches sharply. “ _Enj_.”

Enjolras digs his fingers into Grantaire’s hip and brings his head down as far as he can.

The bed jolts as Grantaire’s arm gives out, making him fall back as he comes undone. The startled gasp escaping Grantaire’s mouth turns into a near inaudible groan and Enjolras swallows hard around him. An incoherent mix of praise and swearing tumbles from his boyfriend’s mouth and Enjolras does his best to hold him down, the feeling of Grantaire shaking underneath him setting off something hot and triumphant deep inside him.

Slowly Enjolras sits up, still panting slightly, and looks at Grantaire. He’s lying spread out on Enjolras’ bed, half-naked but fully exposed, his eyes closed and his lips parted, and Enjolras can’t help the smirk on his face. He looks a little longer, taking it all in and does his best to tie this image to sound of melodic Portuguese spoken in a frantic, roughed up voice. With a soft sigh of utter contentment Enjolras pushes his hair out of his face and slides out of his position between Grantaire’s legs to go lie against him instead.

When he puts his head against Grantaire’s shoulder, Grantaire lets out a weak, panting sound

“…fucking hell.” He finally opens his eyes, staring at Enjolras with a dazed expression.

Enjolras looks at him, nestling comfortably against his side, and makes no effort to repress the triumph he feels humming inside of him. “How’s that for turning your bad day around?” he says, grinning slightly.

“What bad day?” Grantaire says blankly and it’s an absolute thrill to feel his heart racing so wildly. Grantaire tries to press a kiss on Enjolras’ mouth, but moves so clumsily it lands mostly on his cheek.

Enjolras chuckles softly and puts his head back against Grantaire’s shoulder. “I love you,” he hums contentedly.

Grantaire makes a desperate sound at the back of his throat. “What the hell did you do to me?” he pants. “I can’t even move.”

“Good,” Enjolras says smugly, wrapping an arm around his waist. “There’s nowhere we need to go anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> I will never get used to uploading smut. _Never._
> 
> Thanks for reading ^^;;


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